By Any Other Name
by mugglecastlover31
Summary: Some relationships are never meant to be understood. All that exists is a mutual need and Charlotte needs Daniel just as he needs her. He's the one thing keeping her sane.


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A/N: It's been quite some time since I've posted a Lost fic. In the end, I really can't get over the fact that Daniel is dead. He is by far my favorite character. So as a result, here is a Daniel/Charlotte fic. Something to make me feel better. It's definitely not fluffy. It's about weird relationships that exist amongst people -- relationships that have no definition.

**_Lots of cookies to my awesome beta WinterBaby19! She makes my fics readable._**

**_Disclaimer: If I owned Lost there is no way Daniel would be dead. Title inspired by Shakespeare._**

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By Any Other Name

He was not her boyfriend, fiancé, or husband. Their relationship didn't have a name. They lived together but slept in separate bedrooms. He had never touched her and she had never touched him. He used to touch her – on the island. But everything was different now.

Her friends teased her about him. When they were told about her living situation they did not understand.

"You're living with a physicist?"

"But he's so…you know…mental!"

"And you're not even sleeping with him? Well would you want to? I mean look at him!"

"Charlotte, you can do so much better."

Better? Better how?

They both worked at Cambridge. He worked quietly on theories while she worked with decidedly more exuberance at her research. They rarely crossed paths at work. He stayed locked up in either his tiny office or in his lab. Every Wednesday they would eat a quiet lunch together but that was the extent of their interaction while at work.

She usually got back to their flat at six. When he made it back was anyone's guess. At first she has worried when didn't return to their flat until early in the morning. Now she understood that it was part of his nature. He wasn't used to someone waiting at home. She never said anything directly to him but eventually he figured out that coming home before midnight was best. He could see how she visibly relaxed when he came home.

Charlotte usually ate dinner alone. Only occasionally would their schedules cross enough to have both flatmates sitting together at the dinner table. Even then, their conversation was limited. She might ask about his work and he'd slowly explain what he could. He'd reciprocate and she'd tell him about her latest lecture and the kind of idiots she had to work with. Then, comfortable silence. Never awkward, just…comfortable. They didn't need words to communicate, and they didn't often speak. Gestures, glances, or nods were all that were needed in their strange relationship.

She often wondered who he was to her. When her mother had asked her about her relationship with the man she lived with, she hadn't known how to answer. She knew that leaving him was out of the question. But a name for their relationship? She honestly did not know. Husband? No, no ring. Fiancé? Again, no ring. Boyfriend? No. So what did that leave? A friend. A friend who had slowly become something more. A person she was hopelessly connected to as a result of everything all their experiences on the freighter and on the island. He was the only man she could stand to be with. All other men became savages in comparison to him. Those men only wanted to touch her. _He_ didn't touch her anymore. He used to once. On the island. It was never more than a gentle touch on the shoulder or a guiding hand on the small of her back. But that was only on the island.

They had barely escaped the hell of time travel. He had figured out a way to get off the island. Neither of them knew what had happened with anyone else, but at least they were safe. Maybe it was that knowledge that was keeping them trapped within themselves. Knowledge that made them cling to each other so desperately. The knowledge of all the horror and death on the island. It kept them together. He protected her on the island and he kept her sane off of it.

The routine – a daily ritualistic dance of life – kept her sane. Kept her from revisiting the horrors of the island.

But then one day, that routine broke.

She received a call that her father was in the hospital. Her stoic manner would not allow her to cry but she called Daniel immediately. It was one of those rare nights when it was almost one in the morning and he was still at his lab. He only asked one question:

"Which hospital?"

Minutes later, he was at the hospital and at her side. Her mother gave him a disapproving look. He'd never be good enough for her daughter, but that was beside the point. He was here, with her family, waiting for her father to come out of the operating room.

She showed emotion only by tapping her foot. He sat calmly next to her. As time dragged on, he could sense her tension escalating. Almost instinctively he put a hand on her hand. It was a light and gentle touch, like on the island. It had been two years since he had touched her. The warm weight on her hand was comforting. The slight contact between calmed her, if only a little.

The doctor came out minutes later and informed them that her father was stable but not completely out of danger. He felt her breathe out slowly. While her sisters hugged each other she sat still.

"Charlotte, your father is all right!"

Her mother seemed to dislike her stoicism.

"I know Mother."

"You don't look like it."

"I'm not jumping up and down because I know he's still at risk."

Daniel squeezed her hand lightly.

The doctor returned and told them that her father would be sedated until the next day. They should go home.

"Charlotte, why don't you stay at home tonight?" her mother said gesturing for Charlotte to follow her.

"I will stay at _my _home tonight," Charlotte replied, walking in the opposite direction. Daniel slowly stood up, inclined his head slightly to her gaping family and followed Charlotte.

Daniel reached home before Charlotte did. He waited and waited but she didn't come. He tried calling her mobile but it was off. He kept waiting. It was nearly five in the morning when she returned. In the winter morning it was still pitch black outside. Daniel sat on the sofa proofreading a colleague's paper.

He looked up and smiled softly at her as she walked in. Her eyes were filled with worry for her father and with fatigue. She put a hand on his shoulder, silently thanking him for waiting for her. Then she went to her room and shut the door.

Daniel did the same.

Later, while lying in the pitch black, Daniel heard his door open. He saw Charlotte's figure walk through the door. What was she doing? She came and sat down on the opposite side of his bed.

"Thank you Daniel."

The emotion in her voice conveyed the true meaning behind the words. She was thanking him for everything. Not just today. Either way, he knew she didn't need an answer.

He expected her to get up and leave since this was already out of character for her. But she didn't. Instead she picked up the covers and slid next to him. They lay in silence for a moment until he felt her hand on his. Slowly she threaded her fingers around his as she lay next to him. The only part of their bodies that were touching was their intertwined hands.

But that was enough.

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**_A/N: Please review! Constructive criticism is always appreciated._**


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